


Even if it Would Hurt for a Minute

by PrismPrince



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Cutting, Depersonalization, Family Drama, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, connor is a mess im so sorry, suicide note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 12:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrismPrince/pseuds/PrismPrince
Summary: Connor Murphy's arm itched.It started as a cause of the mosquitos, but it became much more serious than bugs.





	Even if it Would Hurt for a Minute

Connor’s arm itched.

At 9, he was used to it. The bug bites were constant thanks to mosquitos. His family spent lunchtime on the weekends at the orchard not too far from his house. They’d been doing it for as long as his tiny brain could remember.

He never had any self control, so he had to learn how to stop the itch before it overtook him.

His mom taught him that sanitizer and Neosporin would help stop the itch, even if it would hurt for a minute. 

Once he found out Zoe was struggling with the same itch on her leg he carefully would have her sit down. Gently, he taught her the same thing. He held her hand as the 8-year-old yelped in pain when he did it the first time. Connor would carefully quiet her down, hating the way she sounded when upset like that.

Connor’s arm itched.

At 13, he was used to it. The urge was there ever since he learnt about it. His family made him feel like shit all the time. They'd been doing as long as he could remember, thanks to his memories becoming foggy from the starting use of drugs. 

He never had any self control, so he had to learn how to stop the itch before it overtook him.

The wrong side of internet taught him that thin metal would help stop the itch, even if it would hurt for a minute.

That was the point.

Once he found out Zoe was struggling with the same itch on her leg, he carefully sat her down. Gently, he tried to have a long conversation with her. As he explained it, she grabbed his hand as the 13-year-old yelped in pain when she pulled his sleeve up for the first time. 

12 is too young to see someone like that.

Connor’s arm itched. 

It never stopped.

Zoe hadn't told their parents when she first found out, but it slipped out during a screaming match at dinner a year later.

“At least I don't tear my own wrist to shreds every night!”

It was the first time Connor had gone silent at an accusation. 

He had to show his parents, now. He pulled his sleeves up at the end of dinner and his mom gagged at the sight. It was pretty gnarly, to be fair. Especially if it was on the arms of your son. 

That night, it was more than just Connor’s arms that itched.

It was a weird feeling in his stomach. Everything felt weird, in fact. It was like he was mechanically doing all this; walking into the bathroom and locking the door didn't seem right. He stared at his 14-year-old self in the mirror and realized just how shitty he looked. He had to do this. He didn't think he could take much more of his parents. His sister. Freshman year. It was too much. 

Halfheartedly, he pulled out his phone and opened it to his memos app.

Out of all of the suicide attempts that occurred throughout high school, this was the only time Connor tried to write a note.

He drew a bath and, as the water filled the spotless porcelain basin, he typed out some shit note blaming it on others, but also himself. He took the password lock off of his phone and left it on the counter of the sink. 

He got into the tub fully-clothed.

The itching never stopped.

It was a lie.

The long lines that started at his elbow and reached his palm were supposed to make the mosquito bite feeling stop.

ItHurtItHurtItHurtItDidn’tStopAnythingHeDidn’t-

Zoe found him. 

Zoe found him ten minutes later and nearly passed out at the sight.

13 is too young to see someone like that.

14 is too young to feel something like that.

Zoe read the note.  
13 is too young to read something like that.

14 is too young to write something like that.

Zoe bandaged his arms and hauled him out and cried and screamed for her parents and cried and used Connor’s phone to call 911 but she had to hand the phone to her dad because she was shaking and she managed to drain the deep red bath water but she never let go of Connor and had to be pried away from him when they brought him to the hospital.

They tried to forget that night.

No one did.

Zoe asked for bath bombs for Christmas one year after that.

Connor was the first person to run into the bathroom when she started screaming like that night. The bath bomb made the water deep red.

Like that night.

He made his parents leave the two of them alone as he calmed her down from her first panic attack. 

Once he found out Zoe what was struggling with, he carefully sat down next to her. Gently, he had a long conversation with her. As he explained what was happening and why, she grabbed his hand as the older boy yelped in pain when she pulled his sleeve up for the thousandth time. 

This time, he let her.

**Author's Note:**

> you are not alone.  
> if you need to talk to someone, my tumblr is   
> @aspentreesandpreciousbees  
> and @semicolonsandperiods  
> i love you ♡


End file.
